


Notice

by Akoya8



Series: Birthday One-Word Prompts [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coercion, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Man/Younger Woman, Tywin is Definitely Not Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoya8/pseuds/Akoya8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tywin has seen a new face around the office and he would like to get to know her...biblically. But then he finds out who she is, and his intentions turn slightly more cruel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themysteryvanishing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysteryvanishing/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire; it belongs to GRRM. 
> 
> Author’s Note: This is the eleventh fic in my one-word prompt series. AU Tywin/Sansa pairing. 
> 
> CAUTION: This fic contains elements of dub-con. If that is not to your taste, please pass this one by.

Normally, someone in her position would be beneath his notice. After all, he commanded a multi-national, billion-dollar company along with its subsidiaries. She should be beneath his notice, and yet, he couldn’t help but see her everywhere he went within the halls of Casterly Inc. She flitted from one floor to the next, delivering coffee and files alike with a quick smile and a flick of her red hair.

That hair had been the first thing to snare his attention. It was not the color that had caught his eye, red was common enough, but its length and shine. Such hair was gaudy, an unnecessary burden, but she carried it with a grace that belied her youth and station.

So, he watched her, not because he wanted to, but because he could not force himself to look away.

He was not a man given to romantic passions, not after the untimely death of his wife, and what urges he did have were easily expended on discrete whores. This obsession was illogical and dangerous. A man of his status and wealth did not want for anything, and if they did, the need was met with a judicious application of money or threats, whichever was most appropriate.

However, fucking an employee was a low to which Tywin Lannister had never stooped. Only the most debauched and degenerate of men polluted their workplace with their lust. He held himself to a higher standard and he refused to be brought low by base attraction. But, it seemed that she unknowingly mocked his resolve every time she ventured out onto the floor.

What he had once seen as smiles became salacious invitations, and the hair that had once seemed gaudy featured heavily in fantasies, spread across his pillows, grasped within his hands. This fixation was becoming a sickness, once he feared could be cured only by spending himself between her thighs.

Therefore, day after day, night after night, the nameless redhead haunted him, and he was left with no recourse but to raid the employee files in order to discover her identity.

It was a job that could be entrusted to no one else, and so, he found himself at Casterly long after the rest of his employees had gone. The task he had set himself was an easy one. Casterly employed thousands, but fortune was on his side: Human Resources kept separate files for new hires, after a year of employment with the company, those files would be moved to the correct departments. But, for now, they were conveniently gathered in one place.

It took two hours of searching before he found her, and his discovery had him alternating between feelings of triumph and rage. At last, he had a name to put to her face, but that name was an abhorrent one in his mouth: Stark.

What in the godsdamned hells was a Stark doing working at a Lannister company?

It was a violation of everything Tywin thought he knew about the world. Lions and direwolves were natural enemies. One did not approach the other without proper precautions, but she defied tradition and wandered into his territory. Tywin never indulged in fits of hysteria, but his cautious paranoia had served him well over the years; the presence of Sansa Stark at Casterly stank of corporate espionage, and he would root it out.

The thought of having a Stark in his clutches, ready to crucify, had his blood up. The image of Sansa Stark pleading for mercy had his cock hard and throbbing. She would regret the day that she had stepped into his domain. She would charm secrets from his staff no longer!

* * *

It went against his nature to act in anger. In his youth, he had been brash and quick to take action. Age had tempered him, soothed the ragged edges of his rage, but after discovering the identity of the duplicitous Sansa Stark he had experienced anger the likes of which he had not felt for years.

The plans he had concocted for dealing with the Stark girl were filled with pain and humiliation, images of her broken body being dragged before Eddard Stark to show him that Tywin Lannister was not a man to be trifled with.

Time had once again proved to be his ally, and a few weeks’ worth of thought on the matter had restored his rationality. Sansa Stark would be taught a lesson in how grave a thing it was to prod the lion of Casterly.

A soft knock on his office door brought him back to the present.

He had decided that he wanted this confrontation to be private; to that end, the Stark girl would be forced to contend with the lion in his den, a place otherwise known as his downtown loft.

“Enter.”

The girl who had occupied his thoughts for so long was finally standing before him. He could feel his body tightening with anticipation.

“Closer, Miss Stark, one should not linger in doorways.”

She nodded timidly, closing the door behind her and moving to stand directly in front of his desk. He could see her slight fingers tightly gripping the files in her hands. Those files were the pretense under which she had been summoned.

“Those are the files I asked for, I presume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lay those on the desk then, take a seat.”

“Sir, I-I’m expected back at the office.”

“You will leave when I dismiss you; now, sit down, Miss Stark.”

The tremble in her hands spread to the rest of her body and she sat down gingerly, perching on the edge of her seat. Tywin observed that she looked ready to flee at the slightest provocation. He would begin slowly then.

“How long have you been with Casterly, Miss Stark?”

“About-about two months, sir.”

“And you have come to my company from where?”

“I’m a student at King’s, sir, a second year. A friend recommended the job to me. She said that it wouldn’t interfere with my studies.”

“This friend recommended Casterly specifically?”

"No, well, yes, in a way.”

“Pick an answer and hold to it, Miss Stark, my patience is not infinite.”

“She suggested that I take a low-level position in a company, you know the fetch and carry stuff, just to gain some experience. She assumed that I would choose my father’s company.”

“Clearly you did not. Why?”

“I didn’t really have a reason. I mean, I did, but it’s stupid.”

Tywin smiled like a shark, inwardly pleased when she shuddered. “By all means, Miss Stark, enlighten me.”

“If I’d asked, my father would have given me a job, and I didn’t want that.”

Her story was unbelievable, trite, and she was foolishly naïve to think that he would accept such drivel.

“Miss Stark.”

“Sir?”

“Am I a moron?”

“P-pardon, sir?”

“Do I appear to be mentally incapacitated?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Then why would you think that you could peddle me shit and expect me to eat it?”

The surprise on her face was genuine enough, he would grant her that, but all he could see was a mask concealing her treachery.

“The presence of a Stark at Casterly is nothing short of suspicious and that your presence went unnoticed for so long tells me that your father has influence in my company. Your employment confirms that, however, what has eluded me is the identity of your father’s mole. You will provide me with that information or you will face the consequences. Know that you are completely alone here, and you are at my mercy. I gather you know enough about me to be aware of the fact that I am not known for being merciful?”

Her surprise had turned to fear and tears were silently streaming down her face. She nodded.

“Then I trust that your fear will bring out your honesty. If it doesn’t…”

Tywin was sure that she was imagining all sorts of horrors, running scenario after scenario through her head, attempting to find a way to come out of this with her hide intact.

“S-sir, Mr. Lannister, I don’t know what you want me to say! I just, I just applied for this job and I am nothing in the company! I get coffee and carry files; I’m nothing!”

“Precisely, Miss Stark. You are insignificant and therefore overlooked. I demanded honesty from you, and you withheld it; you have one more chance to salvage this. Make it count.”

He could hear desperation coloring her voice, “Please, you don’t understand! All I wanted was a job! It has nothing to do with being a Stark! Please, you have to believe me!”

Tywin was up and out of his chair before she had even finished her plea. She was quite the little actress, and if he had been any other man, he might have been foolish enough to believe her protestations of innocence. But, he was Tywin Lannister, lord and master of Casterly Inc., and he had a debt to extract from this girl. She owed him his time, weeks spent lusting after her when, all the while, she was no better than the whores whose services he sometimes purchased.

He was in front of her in seconds, gripping the arms of her chair, caging her like a beast.

“I warned you, Miss Stark.” His voice was low and menacing, “Now you have only yourself to blame. Reap now the consequences of your lies!”

Tywin lunged at her and caught her lips with his own. Hers were slightly parted, no doubt in shock, but he seized the opportunity and invaded. She would pay her debt with her body; he would seduce the information from her and be rid of his obsession once and for all.

He felt her hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but he leaned in further until her elbows gave. Tywin deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue across hers, stealing what little breath she had in her lungs.

The hands that once pushed were now grasping, and she moaned into his mouth. Anger flashed through him; this was punishment! His intention was to violate, not give pleasure! But her hands were suddenly on his face, her nimble fingers soothing away his tension, tilting his head so that her mouth could meet his smoothly.

Shocked, he broke away, chest heaving slightly while he tried to rationalize her reaction. Unable to do so, he asked, “What did you think you were doing?”

It took her a moment to reply, her breath did not come back as easily as his own did, “I-I don’t know, sir. I just reacted. I mean, I was scared, but it felt good and I had-I wanted to touch you.”

Tywin looked at her warily, but could find no deceit in her eyes. This was a troubling outcome. He could hardly torture a willing victim; still, she seemed more truthful in the aftermath of their intimate exchange. Furthermore, an active participant was preferable to a wooden one.

“Miss Stark, you say you are innocent of any wrongdoing?”

A nod.

“Would you be willingly to do anything to prove that innocence?”

Another nod.

“Then join me in my bed, Miss Stark, and we shall see if your body is more honest than your mouth.”

A pause, followed by a nod.

He extended his hand in invitation, feeling like Mephistopheles, and drew her up from her seat. Tywin pulled the girl to his chest and growled in her ear, “Prepare yourself, Miss Stark, for I will not be going easy on you.” He turned and led her through the door connecting his office to his bedchamber.

Finally, he would sate himself upon her willing flesh.


End file.
